


cetirizine, your fever's gripped me again

by b_o_i



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Emotional Manipulation, Episode: s06e05 The Black Paladins, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_o_i/pseuds/b_o_i
Summary: Shiro is strong. Shiro is bigger than him, and broader than him, and he’s always know this but it’s never been this scary before.





	cetirizine, your fever's gripped me again

**Author's Note:**

> u know that shot when keith is reaching for his knife and cant get to it and then collapses and shiro's legs drop into frame in front of him and clang on the metal all loud and scary? thts the moment tht inspired me. honestly im surprised it took me this long to act on it 
> 
> as usual read the tags, know what ur getting into

 

Shiro is strong.

He’s always known Shiro is strong; he’s spent hours sparring with him, spent even longer watching the muscles in his arms move when he fights. He imagines those muscles are rippling under his armor right now, as he swings at him. Keith rolls out of the way, but just barely. He scrambles to his feet, and yelps when Shiro catches his ankle, yanking him back down. He tries to kick out of his grasp but Shiro is strong — he’s slammed onto the ground hard enough that he tastes the metal in the back of his throat. 

“Shiro,” he gasps, twisting onto his back. He only just gets his arm up fast enough to block Shiro’s punch. He doesn’t have enough time to block the second one — the galra hand this time, hitting him across the face so hard he sees stars. He kicks up in retaliation, the way Shiro taught him to go for weak spots, but it only buys him a few moments. He almost manages to flip Shiro onto his back, but Shiro gets a hand around his wrist and twists, forcing Keith back to the floor under threat of it breaking.  
  
Shiro is bigger than him, and broader than him, and he’s always know this but it’s never been this scary.  
  
“Are you scared, Keith?” Shiro asks, always able to see right through him. His voice is harsh and mocking, and Keith recoils like he’s been hit.  
  
“Yes,” he says, because he can never bring himself to lie to him.  
  
“You should be,” the person who looks and sounds just like Shiro says, but it can’t possibly be Shiro because then he digs his hand into the crevice of Keith’s breastplate and rips it apart. It can’t possibly be Shiro because Shiro has never been this violent and remorseless and _scary_ before.  
  
Fear shoots through him as his armor is ripped away. Shiro is going to kill him, he thinks frantically, the hum of the galra arm piercing the air, he’s going to stab him or strangle him or rip out his heart. He’s going to die because Shiro, whether he’s the real one or not, is going to kill him.  
  
His eyes screw shut on instinct, but shoot back open when Shiro reaches down and does the the same to the armor around his legs. He shivers in the thin black fabric of his under-armor, and gasps in surprise when Shiro stops ripping his defenses apart to grab at his hip with one hand.  
  
“Shiro?” He asks, hating how shaky his voice is.  
  
Shiro doesn’t respond, rubbing his thumb up and down Keith’s hipbone and gazing down at it thoughtfully. Keith’s hand inches minutely towards his blade, lying just out of his direct reach. His heart beats loudly in his chest.  
  
“You know,” he says suddenly, making Keith jump, knocking his blade further away,“I’ve always wondered how far you would go to make me happy.”  
  
_As far as I can,_ he thinks but doesn’t say, afraid to shatter whatever it is that’s making Shiro pause.  
  
“You came to space with me, you found me in that pod. You followed me here. You’re such a good friend to me, you’d think it was something more than that.”  
  
Shiro’s hand drifts from Keith hip down to his thigh. Keith’s breath catches in confusion.  
  
“Shiro, what—?”  
  
“You wanna make me happy, don’t you? You want me to be okay?”  
  
“Of course I do,” Keith says frantically, “It’ll be okay, we just have to—“ he cuts himself off with a yelp as Shiro's nails dig into his thigh.  
  
“It’ll be okay,” he echoes, “It’ll be okay if you do this for me.”  
  
“Do what?” He asks, afraid of the answer, “What do you need me to do?”  
  
Shiro just smiles, the way he used to smile giving him pointers for the simulation, and slides his hand up Keith’s thigh to grope at his crotch. Keith’s heart jumps into his throat, and he kicks out on instinct.  
  
“Shiro,” he says, heart beating a staccato rhythm, “What are you—“  
  
Shiro slams him into the floor again, making his head spin, and then Keith feels cool air on his skin as shiro rips the legs of his suit away.  
  
“Shiro,” he says again, and shiro reaches up to cover his mouth.  
  
“Shh,” He says, peering down at him. His eyes are familiar but cold; they hold none of the light Keith loves to see so much. It’s like looking at a stranger. “Listen. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna fuck you, okay?”  
  
Keith feels like he’s been slapped, pulling desperately at the hand over his mouth.  
  
“Don’t be like that. I know you saved yourself for me, baby.”  
  
It’s so surreal to hear Shiro say those words. He’s always wanted Shiro to hold him close and call him stupid sappy shit, but right now all it’s doing is making him hyper aware of how alien Shiro is right now. He never told him. He never told Shiro how he felt, how could he know? Was he that obvious? Is that why he pushed him away? Was he disgusted?  
  
It hardly matters now, with Shiro tearing off the plate of armor over his own crotch without care. Keith rips the hand off of his mouth and says “Shiro, please. You don’t—you don’t know what you’re doing, please you’re not yourself.”  
  
“I’m more myself than I’ve ever been,” he argues, “I’ve always been too afraid to touch you — didn’t wanna _ruin_ you. I’m not afraid anymore.”  
  
The words have Keith reeling. He can’t even feel relieved, amazed that Shiro feels the same — and maybe that’s how he knows this Shiro isn’t his. Shiro doesn’t want him. Shiro would never pin him down and rip him open. And the metal is cold underneath him and he’s so so afraid.  
  
Shiro forces Keith’s legs apart with his knees. “Stop!” He cries, “Shiro, stop!”  
  
Shiro laughs something dark and ugly, one hand pinning his chest down and the other skirting down to his trembling thigh, rubbing in small, pseudo-soothing circles.  
  
“Come on, Keith, I know you want this. You’ve waited years for me to touch you like this.”  
  
“I don’t—“  
  
“You _don’t_ ? You don’t what, want me? Don’t want me to fuck you?” He laughs again, harsh and cruel, and grips Keith’s cock, half-hard from friction and the cool air; Keith gasps, “Please. You always _stare_ at me — the way you pant for it when we spar is _embarrassing_ . I could hold you down and fuck you into the floor in the middle of the training room and you would beg for it, wouldn’t you.”  
  
Keith flushes in humiliation, despising the way his dick twitches in Shiro's hand, because it’s Shiro with his hand around his dick and it’s everything he’s ever wanted and he’s going to cry.  
  
“You were always so pathetic, following me around like a dog. I know you used to suck off other cadets in the showers — all that work I did getting you into the Garrison and you decided to whore around instead of working on your attitude problem. Got on your knees and wished it was me.”  
  
“No,” Keith protests, because he didn’t — he didn’t dare, back when Shiro still had Adam and Keith knew he had no chance at all, “Stop, I didn’t—“  
  
“You’re such a liar, Keith,” Shiro chides, and lets go of his dick to circle his hole. Keith jerks away, but can’t move; Shiro's galra hand is cold against his skin. “The castle walls aren’t thick. I hear you moaning my name like a whore.” He shoves a finger inside him, dry and grating, and Keith bites back a scream. “Sometimes I thought about surprising you, bending you over your bed and giving you what you were asking for. But I was always too afraid. I’m not afraid anymore,” he repeats, “I’m going to fuck you.”  
  
“Please!” Keith shouts, “Please, Shiro, stop!”  
  
“I’ll make it good,” he croons, deceptively soft and impossibly tender, like he isn’t scraping against Keith’s insides like sandpaper, “I’ll make you feel good, baby.”  
  
He wiggles a second finger inside with the first, and reflexive tears gather in Keith’s eyes. He shakes his head desperately.  
  
Above him, Shiro growls. “You’re so fucking ungrateful,” he snarls, pulling his fingers out so quick it makes Keith yelp, “I gave you everything, and you won’t pay me back? I should’ve done this ages ago. Need to show you your place.”  
  
Shiro gets a hand under Keith’s knee and pushes it to his chest, leaving him exposed for the world to see, ashamed and afraid. Keith struggles, so Shiro gets his galra hand around his neck, squeezing tight as he curls forwards and pushes in. Keith screams this time, throwing his head back and knocking it against the floor.  
  
Shiro moans, despite how tight of a fit it must be. “You really did save yourself for me, huh.”  
  
Keith sobs, unable to hold it in anymore. It hurts, and Shiro is the one hurting him. Something is controlling him, it has to be, but Shiro’s hand is around his neck and his cock is hot and heavy inside him and Keith wants to be anywhere but here.  
  
“Shiro, please,” he begs, “Please stop, please don’t, please I can’t—it hurts!”  
  
“What, not everything you thought it would be?” He asks, pulling out thrusting back in hard. Something slick eases the way just a bit; Keith hopes to god it’s not blood he feels on his thighs. “Not what you dreamed about?”  
  
Keith sobs again, throwing an arm over his eyes because Shiro doesn’t look like Shiro and this was never supposed to happen this way. Shiro growls and pulls out long enough to grip his hips and force him onto his stomach. Keith’s head clangs against the metal, and when he comes to again Shiro has a hand on the back of his neck to force his head down, and he’s fucking and he’s talking but Keith can’t hear what he’s saying. He can’t hear anything over the sound of his own heart beating and his own heart shattering as Shiro wraps a hand around his dick a second time.  
  
“Look at you” Shiro breaths, “you’re hard from this? You filthy fucking slut.”  
  
“No,” Keith cries, muffled, but Shiro pays him no mind at all.  
  
“Desperate for anything I give you.” He laughs as he thrusts in hard, grinding Keith against the cold floor; it stings his stomach and arms where they’re exposed, what’s left of his armor and under-suit hanging around his shoulders. “I could’ve taken anything from you and you would have let me.”  
  
The worst part, Keith thinks through the haze of pain, is that it’s true. He would’ve done anything Shiro asked of him. He would’ve gotten on his knees in an instant but god, never like this.  
  
“After Adam left, I thought about knocking on your door and teaching you one last thing before I left for Kerberos. Thought about — oh _fuck_ , thought about teaching you how to suck cock the right way, how to spread yourself open for me. Turn you into a pretty little snack waiting for me to get back. It’s okay, though, there’s still time for you to learn.”  
  
He twists his hand around Keith’s dick, and Keith sobs into the floor, tasting the metal on the skin of his teeth. He’s in too much pain to feel good, but his body tries anyways. Shiro twists his wrist again and again and sparks shoot up his spine despite the ache he feels in his whole goddamn body.  
  
It’s too much. Shiro is hot against his back and he’s never had someone else’s cock up his ass and it’s too much, it’s too big, he’s too full. He can’t move without pain shooting through him; he tries to jerk away anyways but that just drags his cock against Shiro’s hand — there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s trapped and it’s overwhelming.  
  
“Shiro,” he pleads, choking on his own breath as Shiro fucks into him again and again, “Please, stop, please—I love you.”  
  
For one terrifying moment, everything stops. Then, Shiro presses forwards harder than before, forcing him further onto the ground.  
  
“Just let _go_ , Keith,” he growls, “You don’t have to fight anymore. There’s nothing you can do, so just _lie_ there,” he thrusts forwards viciously; Keith cries out, “and take it.”  
  
“Shiro,” he sobs, but Shiro doesn’t stop. He pants and growls behind him and sounds so inhuman Keith can almost forget who he is. Imagine it’s someone else hurting him like this. He bites down hard on Keith’s neck when he comes, groaning long and low into Keith’s ear. When he pulls out, Keith feels something warm and hot drip down his thighs.  
  
He stays very very still as Shiro seems to catch his breath above him. His blade is still out of reach, but it’s not far. If he waits for Shiro to lose focus, he can kick out and push forwards and grab it, he just has to—  
  
Shiro yanks him down by his ankle and rolls him over onto his back, smearing his mess onto the metal beneath him. Keith reflexively tries to close his thighs, but Shiro is solid between them. He looks far too composed for someone who just came.  
  
“Don’t cry,” Shiro says softly, wiping away a tear on Keith’s face and sounding so gentle and familiar it almost makes him cry again. “It’s okay, baby, I’ll make you feel good.”  
  
His hand trails from his neck to his chest and down to his half hard dick. Keith gasps, hips thrusting up automatically. Pain shoots through him at the action, and he blinks more tears out of his eyes.    
  
“Shh,” Shiro curls around him, pulling one of his knees up again to give him easier access; Keith aches, “It’s okay.”  
  
“Shiro,” Keith says, voice cracking on the word as Shiro starts pumping, his human hand warm and bigger than Keith could have dreamed, “Please don’t.”  
  
“It’ll feel good,” he breathes, so different from the vicious words he was spitting minutes ago, “You love me, don’t you? You made me feel good. I want you to feel good, too.”  
  
“Shiro, please, I don’t want to.” He tries in vain to push Shiro off of him, but Shiro is bigger and stronger and broader than him, and it doesn’t work. Shiro just shushes him again, holding him down and doing his best to get Keith to cum.  
  
And god, Keith’s dreamed of being able to say that—say that Shiro made him come, that he held him down and showed him what to do—but the dream is being thrown back in his face in the worst way and he doesn’t want it anymore.  
  
“You’re doing so good,” Shiro croons into the skin of his neck, “Just let go, Keith. It’ll feel good, I promise.”  
  
Keith squeezes his eyes shut and sobs when he comes, forced over the edge by Shiro’s impossibly big hand. Release washes over him in waves, and Shiro strokes him through it until he’s over sensitive and begging him to stop.  
  
While Keith catches his breath, Shiro smears his comes across his shaking thighs, thumb circling his aching hole.  
  
“I think I wanna fuck you again,” he says thoughtfully. Keith lets the terror that rushed through him take over—he kicks Shiro in the face, pushing through the agony that shoots up his body, and scrambles to grab his blade.  
  
The fight is a blur after that. The last thing he knows is that he’s hanging off the edge of the world with his blade in one hand and Shiro’s wrist in the other, and he can’t bring himself to let go of Shiro, but when his blade slips, he lets himself fall.

 


End file.
